


Reaper of the Roses

by katsukii



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, Kissing, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:52:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukii/pseuds/katsukii
Summary: Sebastian is like a rose: beautiful, but oh-so thorny. Grell will stop at nothing to hold her perfect rose.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Reaper of the Roses

> **Sanguine dance at night  
>  Pops of color, bloodied smiles  
> All for the last time  
> It starts and ends the same way-  
> Quickly, an echo in space**

  
  


Falling.

They were falling. On her, around her. Petals peeled from the fleshy stalks, flaking down like charred skin. The air crackled with embers that lay gasping for breath at the foot of the rose bushes; they glew lurid carmines with every taste of the breeze, wooden lungs filling with oxygen. Exhale, push the flames up the stalks. Taste the petals, fizzle out. Wait for the breeze to stir again, awaken the dying body that resided under the roses.

Grell extended a hand, plucking a lone petal from the air as it plummeted down. Fire ate at its sides, gnawing its way down to the heart of the petal. Frowning, she extinguished the flame promptly with her glove, but could do nothing to heal the scar that had chewed its way into the center of the petal, blackened and sick. Chartreuse eyes gazed melancholy at the remains. She thumbed the edges gently, tracing the pattern the flames had licked into the petal with a careful hand. How saddening.

Sparing not a glance more, she tossed the petal to the ground where it joined its fallen brethren, piling up at Grell’s feet. Few flowers remained in-tact, slain by the cruel flames that spread so vehemently across the estate. While Grell could scarcely pity a human, she could pity these flowers, these beacons of beauty and love that had fallen needless victim to the cleansing destruction. In truth, she loved them only for the fact that they reminded her of Sebastian - oh, dearest Sebastian, so thorny but so beautiful. Just like Sebastian, she could grasp at naught but petals, never able to take the full flower by the hand and pull it close. How Grell loathed being shot down by that man. It wasn’t anything personal, she knew; just business, but oh, how it stung. She curled her fingers into fists, squeezed them so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her palms through her gloves.

The wafting towers of smoke hit her nostrils once more and Grell’s face contorted, hand flying to cover her nose and mouth as her lungs dragged in the thick, scorching air. Each breath seemed to warm her organs. She despised the mucky taste of the smoke, heavy on her tongue, despised the low visibility and the dancing embers that pirouetted through the air, carried by rogue winds. She despised the burning of the flowers and the estate that they belonged to, despised its master and despised its butler. Well, moreso, despised that she couldn’t garner any attention from the aforementioned butler. No matter how she struggled, it was all fruitless; Sebastian would spare not even a second glance for the reaper, even when she was of use. It was all just hard eyes and hard lines on his stalwart visage. Perhaps the occasional, “well done,” but that was really pushing it. Grell did not get to bathe in such luxurious praise often. Yes, she despised it.

Grell heaved a sigh as she ran a hand over the simmering leaves of the southernmost rose bush, feeling their sharp thorns poke through the thick of her glove. The peppering of pain across her skin was welcome. With a deft movement, she drew her hand back and removed the glove, eyeing her pallid skin as beads of blood began to form where the thorns had pierced her. Thin lips curled into a wan smile; sharp teeth glinted in the firelight. Oh, that color! The palpable saturation of that beloved color! Grell’s legs shook underneath her body; she nearly swooned. Crimson was such a lovely hue. Certainly one to die for.

She needed more.

She scoured the bushes with a fervency that could only be described as desperate, luminescent eyes scanning bloom after bloom with the discerning taste of a connoisseur. Only the best of the bush’s progeny would do. With so many of the stalks already eaten away by flame, few were left for the picking, and Grell’s eyebrows knit neatly into a show of frustration. She pouted, petulantly, hummed a bitter note as she inspected another flower. Not good enough. Missing a petal. Stalk burnt. Leaves flaking away.

Aloud, she groaned through clenched teeth. There was so little time, so precious little time to find what he was looking for. The perfect rose - she longed to find it, _needed_ to find it. Her hands were meant to cradle the perfect bloom, the most beautiful of all flora. If not her, who else? Who else could be such a match for the elegant, deadly rose?

Cries echoed from the distance - distressed children, wailing women, bickering men. Each was rife with its own kind of pain, and Grell knew instinctively her job was beckoning her. This was her sign - her moment, the pinnacle of a reaper’s career. The harvesting of souls. But the only soul Grell was in search of was one of a flower - _her_ flower, her perfect, gentle, toxic flower. She needed to find it. Delirious with desire, Grell sped up her search, irises flitting from bush to bush; her breaths came quickly, chest rising and falling hastily with each cycle. Smoke filled her lungs, stung her eyes. Still, she sought after her flower. It was here, somewhere; it had to be. Amidst adversity, the most beautiful of flowers blooms. Her flower was here.

She had found it.

Surrounded by a creeping wall of flame was the last untouched bush. No time to think. Grell made a mad dash for the roses, racing the fire; teasing flames licked over the parched grass, threatening to close around the bush, but Grell would not have it. She sprinted through the opening, dug her heels into the dirt to skid to a half just before the bush. It stood, tall, reaching high into the air with a grace that was only befitting of the best roses. And there, right in the center, was the rose. Soft, velvety petals bloomed and swayed in the gentle breeze. Grell reached out a hesitant hand - the ungloved hand - and curled her fingerpads about the thorny stalk, not so much as a wince as they pricked her, burying deep in her skin. She pulled the stalk, snipped it with her death scythe. This soul she claimed as hers - assuming plants had souls. She had heard talk of all living things having souls, but she was not sure where her stance on the matter fell. Either way, this rose was deserving of being claimed by a reaper. Unlike a human soul, it was so beautiful, so innocent.

So perfect.

A new task presented itself to Grell. With hurry in her step, Grell made for the burning city, cradling the rose close to her breast as she ran as fast as she dared across the soot-coated ground. She had to find another.

It did not take her long. She found it on the top of a burning building, flames seeping from open windows where he assumed men were driven to jump. Bodies littered the cobblestone; crying children hid in street corners, huddled under rubble in hopes of being shielded by the all-consuming fire. Grell hurried her way into the building, shouldered through fallen planks and burning door frames. She had to make it to the top. She belonged there. She belonged there so badly it physically pained her. She deserved this. After everything, she deserved this.

The fresh air hit her face like a brisk slap, and her lungs greedily gulped in a deep breath. Her rose sat at the far edge of the roof, overlooking the city. Black petals gleamed in the amber hue, bathed.

Grell swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Sebastian.”

“Grell.”

Without another word, Grell brandished her rose and tucked it neatly into Sebastian’s breast pocket, patting it gently. A rose for her rose. She wore a small, pleased smile, though when she looked into Sebastian’s flickering visage, there was a hint of uncertainty stewing in his phosphorescent eyes.

Sebastian’s fiery irises flicked to the rose, studied its petals.

“Now, Bassy, I-”

“Say nothing, Grell. You’ll ruin the beauty.” And with that, eyes trained intently on the interconnecting petals, Sebastian offered what he never did - a smile. Grell’s heart skipped a beat; she fought to maintain the strength in her legs, which now threatened to fold like towels underneath of her.

“Thank you,” Sebastian added, taking hold of Grell’s chin with his thumb and forefinger. He turned her head this way and that, studying her like he studied the flower. His smile remained, and combined with the closeness, it was nearly enough to make Grell faint. Her heart thudded in her chest, a thunderous chorus of beats. Sebastian snickered; Grell wondered if he could hear it. Oh, how Sebastian made her feel alive.

Sebastian’s eyes reflected the whole of the fire amassing behind them as he stared into Grell’s reddening face. It was beautiful, watching the world fall away in the eyes of her most beloved. She was entranced. But just as suddenly as it had started, it ended; Grell could see the fire no more. She saw Sebastian’s dark lashes flutter as his eyes closed, and in the blink of an eye lips were upon hers, white gloves grabbing at red sleeves. Her lithe body was tugged forward; cloth met cloth, but did nothing to hide the warmth of skin underneath. Grell reveled in Sebastian’s heat, reveled in the ashen taste of his tongue and the ferocity to his kiss as teeth dragged over her bottom lip.

Grell's bloody hand flew to Sebastian's neck, tugged him ever closer; sanguine fingerprints were left dotting his porcelain skin. The blood shimmered in the firelight, dark crimson - Grell's favorite color. But now, red seemed like the least of her concern. She had a rose for her rose, and she had what he had always wanted - to hold Sebastian close, show him her love for him. It seemed to last forever, the fervent clash of teeth, the repeated interlocking of their lips - always Sebastian breaking away for air, Grell pulling him close again. And Grell decided she would not quite despise if it lasted forever.

After all, Sebastian was truly the perfect rose.


End file.
